The paintings are built up using interacting glazes of bright colours. The resulting black is transparent, concealing and at times revealing the metal below. In one light they may appear to be uniform dark panels—monochromes or inactive screens (a condition reinforced by their dimensions). In another light, images and incidental marks leap into focus from beneath. The works come to life.

To be annoyingly contrived... as the viewer moves, the works change. As the sun moves, the works change. In each exhibition space the works appear different. In each eye the works appear different. How can photography—today’s ubiquitous medium of first contact with artworks—do them any sort of justice? Yet the images that they contain are built using large halftone dots, which at normal viewing distances can only be resolved when condensed through a lens onto the screen of a phone or tablet. Refusing and revelling in their mediation, viewing the works is an ongoing process, never resolved, always newly unfolding.